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“Once I get you out of here, we'll make sure they never hurt you again,” I promise, my hands shaking with anger and fear.
“Do you really think we can escape them?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Fuck yes,” I reply, forcing confidence into my words even as doubt gnaws at the edges of my mind. “I won't let anyone or anything come between us. Not now, not ever.”
A faint smile flickers across her lips, her eyes shining with love and trust despite the terror that still lingers in their depths. And in that moment, I vow to myself that no matter what it takes, I will protect this woman–the one who has brought light back into my darkened world and given me a reason to fight for a better future.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Always, Flowers. Always,” I reply, my heart swelling with determination as I finally untie the last knot, setting her free from her bonds.
As I step closer to Hannah, the air around us seems to thicken, as if charged with an impending storm. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and a shiver of dread snakes down my spine. Without warning, the warehouse is filled with the low murmur of voices–voices that I recognize all too well.
“Armando,” Hannah whispers, her eyes wide with fear. “Who are they?”
“Stay quiet,” I urge her, my voice barely audible. I can feel their presence closing in around us, like vultures circling their prey.
“Long time no see, Mando,” one of them sneers, stepping out from the shadows. His grin is cruel, his eyes cold and calculating. I recognize him as one of my former mafia associates, a man I had hoped never to cross paths with again.
“Leave her alone,” I growl, positioning myself between Hannah and the menacing figures. My heart hammers against my ribcage, but I refuse to let them see any signs of weakness. My dark world has found me, but I'll be damned if I let it take away the only person who truly matters to me.
“Ah, so this is the girl who's got you so whipped, huh?” another one chimes in, leering at Hannah. “You should have known we'd find you eventually, Armando.”
I glance over my shoulder, locking eyes with Hannah. Her gaze is filled with terror, but there's also a flare of determination there. As if she’s silently urging me to fight back.
“Get away from her,” I snarl, my fists clenching at my sides. With every fiber of my being, I want to protect Hannah–to shield her from these monsters and the horrors that they represent.
As if sensing my resolve, the men lunge forward, their faces twisted with malice and vengeance. I throw myself into the fray, fists flying as I slam them into the first attacker. The impact jolts through my arm, but it only fuels my adrenaline.
“Armando!” Hannah cries out, her voice strangled with fear.
“Stay back!” I shout, desperation clawing at my insides as I struggle to keep the attackers at bay.
But they just keep coming–too many for me to handle alone. Their numbers give them an advantage that I can't overcome, no matter how fiercely I fight. Blow after blow rains down upon me, each one landing with brutal precision.
Pain flares through my body, but it's nothing compared to the agony of knowing that these men are here because of me–because of the life I led before I met Hannah. My past has caught up with me, and now she's the one who will pay the price.
“Armando,” she whispers, her eyes filled with love and trust even as tears stream down her cheeks. “Tonight’s the night I die.”
I wake up wanting to die. It’s the fourth fucking night in a row I dreamt about Hannah. Nightmares. Always with her in danger because of me. About to be killed. Tortured, screaming my name. All to hurt me. This time it was at Lollipops. She was there but tied to a chair, naked.
Like it was the guys in the Outfit who wanted to hurt her and not some street gang.
She was screaming my name, begging—not for them to leave her alone but for them not to kill me.
I don’t know where I was in the dream. There, but unable to help. My limbs wouldn’t move. My mouth couldn’t speak. I tried to shout, to fight, but nothing happened.
I roll off the bed. I’m still in my clothes from yesterday, soaked with sweat, reeking of whiskey.
Since the night Hannah broke up with me, I’ve drunk myself to sleep every night, but alcohol does little to numb the sensation of having my heart cut out with a chainsaw. Everything swirls around me like a fog.
I pull off my clothes and step into the shower. All week, I’ve tempted fate. I’ve been at my apartment. Gone to my job. Walk in broad daylight. Done everything I can to fucking dare the Hermanos to find me, but my deathwish isn’t answered.
